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Unforgettable
Last Updated:
2025-01-04 13:10:15Related chapters
The Boy Who Died To the Wind
MarcieMy ribs start to crush my lungs. I open my mouth in shock. He presses forward, and I can’t help it. I flinch back.Ben releases me immediately. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…. Well, I guess—”“It’s fine.” I unfasten the belt holding me in the kart and climb out. “Really.”“O…kay.” He follows me slowly. “I can take you home now. We don’t have to do the rest of the date.”My heart thunders. Heather’s warning about being safe rings in my ears. I shake my head.“What ‘rest’ is there?”Awkwardly, Ben leads me into the Laser Game Emporium proper. It’s even louder in here, the laser tag warring with the arcade. The smell of fried food winds through the air, and he gestures to a smorgasbord of options that make my mouth fall open again. I’ve never seen so many food choices in one place.“I figured we’d pick a selection, and then, uh, I have a picnic blanket in the trunk, and they close the track in half an hour.” He shrugs. “Thought we could eat under the stars.”I am having a good time, so I
Last Updated : 2025-01-04The Boy Who Died Crazy
MarcieI open the email with shaking fingers. The body is nearly empty, just one line of inscription in the middle: All I could find. Sorry. But I don’t care about that. Every molecule of my body narrows in on the attachment at the bottom. I click, and the picture fills my screen.She obviously took this from under a table. No, a desk. I recognize the speckled, tan plastic that covers the bottom third of the image. Ryan leans close to the phone she was probably using during class with a goofy smile, his blue eyes crossed. It’s a strange, slightly blurry picture.And I don’t care about that either because I was fucking right.I don’t need to open the picture I took of Ben after the night I spent with him. I’m not crazy. The two of them look identical. Same sandy blond hair with a few darker streaks. Same soft blue eyes. Same big ears, though they fit Ben’s grown-up face better than Ryan’s teenaged one. Same everything.My stomach riots. My heart joins it, bouncing off my quickly collap
Last Updated : 2025-01-04The Boy Who Died Something Missing
BenI sip my cooling coffee and sigh. Photography of any kind is a dream job, and Scott gives me a lot of good assignments, so I’m never going to turn him down. But man, it’s hard not to feel like something isn’t missing when I want to make art, and I’m stuck counting smiles on interchangeable group shots.This is just my first job away from home. There will be more.My head itches below my unseasonal beanie. I ignore it. It’s not like I need another reminder of my disastrous date with Marcie two days ago. I already feel stupid enough.When I finally pick the shot with the most smiles, I take another sip of my coffee to discover “cooling” has officially become “cold.” Perfect timing, I guess. I’ll go grab a new cup from Bean and Gone. I email the picture to the editors, stand, and head through the warren of folding-wall cubicles as students start to trickle in after class.Honestly, I was surprised to get an offer from a college paper. At my school, only students worked on it. But app
Last Updated : 2025-01-04The Boy Who Died Proof
Marcie“Nice work,” a girl whose name I don’t know says after our Nursing of Older Adults. “I thought Dummy-nic was a goner.”I blink a few times before the pieces slide into place. The old rubber test dummy I’ve been using for at least four years now gets a new name every year, and this year, it’s Dummy-nic. She’s talking about my save in the bronchodilator-cardiomyopathy example.“Thanks.” I smile awkwardly.She nods and wanders off. People don’t usually talk to me after class, but I always feel like I’m doing it wrong.Whatever. I pound down the stairs while pulling my phone out of my back pocket, hoping for an email from Everett with results. We watched movies until I passed out on the couch last night, and Heather told me this morning that he said it might take a couple of days, but “might” means it also might not.Nothing from Everett. But I do have a text from Ben. I swipe it open and read the message.I’d be a real lifesaver?The girl who just complimented me bumps into my sho
Last Updated : 2025-01-04The Boy Who Died Blast From the Past
LilyMy shoulders heave, and I feel like I’m about to puke, but no tears come out anymore. I don’t have any left. I roll over on my bed and stare at the thin streams of warm afternoon sunlight squeezing in through the gaps in my blinds.Two days ago, at this time, I was out of school early, sitting next to Theresa at her mom’s hair salon, primping for prom. I was holding her hand and laughing. I was complaining about Michaela because Ryan—The sobs take me again.He wasn’t supposed to…to…I can’t even think it yet.Someone knocks on my door. I ignore it. Either Mom will just come in, or it’s someone else, and I don’t want to see them anyway.The door creaks open. “Hon?”Mom. I don’t turn over.“Do you want some lunch?” she asks. “I got another round of condolence gifts, and there’s a platter of deli meat in here. I could make you a nice sandwich.”When she dragged me away from the scene two days ago, I was still screaming. I couldn’t stop. My own words echo in my head on a loop—stop, l
Last Updated : 2025-01-04The Boy Who Died Mending Fences
Marcie“Hey, Lily! You gotta listen to me,” Theresa says.That doesn’t make any sense. She left. And why is my face wet? I cried all my tears out days and days ago. Something harsh and fast echoes around my room. I run my hands through my hair—And find it’s braided, something I never had enough hair for. Had. Back in high school.“Come on, Lily, breathe,” Theresa says. “You’re scaring me.”I crack one of my eyes open. Dark wood railing. Shelves behind me. Book titles in French. Dana’s voice whispers in my ear, coaxing me through a simple grounding exercise.Inhale. I’m in the library at Ardent.Exhale. The movement of the railing in front of me is my own rocking.Inhale. Theresa’s voice is coming through the phone crushed between my shoulder and my ear.Exhale. It’s been six years since Ryan died.“Good,” Theresa says. “Breathe slowly.”I suck in another breath and run my hands over myself. I’m bigger than I was then. My clothes are different. I haven’t spoken to Theresa since that d
Last Updated : 2025-01-04The Boy Who Died A Loss
BenI tweak the colors on a photograph and check my phone. Nothing. That’s fine. I open my email and type out a quick response to a private portrait request—not right now, but maybe around Thanksgiving—then check my phone. Nothing. Great. I sip my coffee, swirl the latte around in my mouth to taste the tiny remaining flecks of cinnamon, and… check my phone.Nothing!Fuck it. I open the message thread with Marcie and read what I sent over again. Yup, it seems just as normal as it did nearly two full days ago. I can’t believe it’s already Wednesday. Half a week between the date and now, and she still hasn’t answered. Even a perfectly normal guy would start assuming he was being ignored at this point.High-pitched laughter floats over the cubicles, and I jerk my head up. Heather is finally here. If anyone knows what I did wrong, it’s going to be her. I jump out of my chair and cut across the Arkly offices to her desk. She’s in the process of setting down her backpack, and two of her frie
Last Updated : 2025-01-04The Boy Who Died The Package
MarcieI fidget with my phone in line at the basement mailroom of Delacruz-Webb. Maybe it wasn’t smart to cut out of Ethical Health and Technology early, but Professor Shields was going over a paper we’d been assigned, like, a dozen times. And it’s a Friday.And the box Theresa promised to send is here.The line moves forward. I show my student ID to the bored attendant then receive the massive package. It isn’t wrapped, just taped. The same box I remember. I mutter my thanks and hurry out.My heart races as I rush home. I unlock the apartment door and re-lock it behind me awkwardly, juggling the oversized package. I feel like it’ll disappear if I put it down. The dark living room means Heather has work today, which means she won’t be back until dinner, but I still go to my bedroom and shut that door behind me, too. If only I could install a lock on that without voiding our security deposit.With a huge exhale, I set the box down in the middle of my room. It looks exactly like I remem
Last Updated : 2025-01-04
Latest chapter
The Boy Who Died Where It Started
LilyAt the end of our two weeks with Ryan’s mom, I’m lying in the bed in our hotel room waiting for him. I’m completely exhausted. Since he’s been going over there almost every day, I’ve been amusing myself with what there is to do around Galesburg, and there’s really not a lot. I’m bored enough that being bored makes me tired, but we’re finally leaving tomorrow. Heading back to Ardent, because I still have a lease, though we haven’t really talked about what happens next for us.I guess I could’ve kept going to his mom’s house, but watching the two of them reunite has been… weird. I just keep thinking about my mom, whom I cut off with everyone else. She didn’t even kill my dad via choices she might’ve been manipulated into making. I’ve picked up my phone half a dozen times, intending to text her and see how things are. But I don’t know what follows that. I can’t imagine going back to Dillsboro for the holidays, reappearing at family gatherings like nothing happened. It just kind of f
The Boy Who Died Coming Home
RyanThe day after they release me from the hospital, I drum my fingers on my knees as the suburban streets I thought I knew all my life but really only knew for six years whip by outside. Heather and Everett dug up nearly everything I could want to know about Julia and Arthur Daugherty but much less about their apparent partner, Marissa McGuire. Or Beverly Evers. Or Laurel Andrews. My mother.Lily puts her hand on mine. “Stop fidgeting. If you mess up your stitches, they’re going to kill me.”I smile. “Kill you? Why? I thought your quick thinking saved my life?”She shakes her head. “It was a through-and-through, and it only got your large intestine. Painful, likely to get infected, but not immediately deadly.”“We waited their ten days!” I tap my other fingers on my other knee, even though it makes the recently stitched surgical scar in my side burn.“I am driving.” She scowls at me quickly. “Do you want to not die in another car crash, just to prove that you’re immortal?”“Sorry!”
The Boy Who Died Last Chance
LilyIf I thought running through this warehouse was torture with Dana chasing me, I was an idiot.“Ryan!” I scream.Still no answer. I retrace my steps back to our little hideout, take off in the same direction he did. My heart hammers. Is he hurt? Should I have taken the gun? Am I going to round the next corner and come face-to-face with Scott—Arthur? Am I already too late?I pour on whatever speed I have left, looking for any clue.There! That stupid cheese dust Ryan threw at them, smeared on the wall. I hang a sharp right.“Ryan!” I shout again.Nothing. With each step, I feel like I’m falling through time. The park on prom night. The car before his funeral, when I refused to go. The street I almost followed the hallucination into. The time I got lost on a field trip, and he was the only one to come looking for me. Ryan, Ryan, Ryan.I am not going to lose him again.The smell of iron pulls me to an open office. I whip inside and skid in a puddle of blood.Blood spatters like it ne
The Boy Who Died Staring Crazy in the Face
MarcieI sprint down one of the identical halls of this part of the warehouse, Ryan’s T-shirt whipping around my otherwise naked body, my heart hammering in my throat.Being shot at from an SUV was crazy. Finding Ryan was crazy. The shooters following us to this warehouse is crazy. But one of the shooters, one of the people who tried to kill Ryan in the first place, being the therapist I’ve trusted with my life nearly every day of the past six years?I’m starting to think I don’t actually know what the word crazy means anymore.Scott thunders after Ryan, and I pray he’s got more of a plan than running and hiding. The “newspaper editor” looks furious.Oh, fuck, did he kill Mrs. Mathers?Heels click along the hallway behind me, and I put all thoughts of the ex-editor out of my mind. Apparently, my bare feet aren’t quiet enough. Dana—if that’s actually her name—is coming after me.I blink, and I’m in that crappy little park on prom night, watching two women drag Ryan away. Was she really
The Boy Who Died Fearless
Ryan“Fuck!” I leap up, toss a T-shirt to Lily, and sprint for the door between this room and the one with the table and chairs, hoping to shut it. I don’t have a plan past that. The reason we picked the second office is because it has no other entrances or exits, not even windows.Someone fires a gun, and I throw myself to the side. The bullet thuds into something, and thank fuck, Lily doesn’t scream. No matter what else I remember—or what I’ve recognized—I know immediately that my body isn’t used to this. I wasn’t secretly dodging bullets while everyone else was in eighth grade. Which means I’ve pretty much got Ben’s skills to rely on.We’re fucked.“Present yourselves, and we’ll handle this cleanly,” a feminine voice says.“Dana?” Lily whispers.I glance at her. She’s put my T-shirt on, but it barely reaches mid-thigh on her. And she looks completely lost. So am I. I don’t know anyone named Dana, or—No, I kind of know that voice. I heard it once. My skin goes cold as I place it wi
The Boy Who Died Lily
RyanMy heart aches. That name echoes in my chest. “No.”Marcie swipes her tears away. “I think you do, somewhere in there, or you wouldn’t have come to Ardent.”“I want to.” I squeeze her hips, anchoring myself in her. “Tell me… something. About him.”“About you.” She smiles softly. “When you moved to town in first grade, someone accidentally sent your mom the second-grade supply list, so you showed up on the first day with all this stuff other people didn’t have. Markers and glue sticks and shit.”Another echo. Back in the hospital, right after I woke up, the doctors said things would feel familiar before I actually remembered them, but they never did. Was this what they meant all along?“Your cubby was right above Theresa’s,” she continues.“Theresa?” The word feels familiar on my tongue. “T?”Marcie’s eyes light up. “That’s what we called her, yeah. Lil, Ry, and T.”They all sound familiar. No memories, but the unavoidable feeling I know those names. I’ve said them all before. My
The Boy Who Died Ryan
MarcieI feel like I’m in the eye of a storm as I stare around the abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Sycamore. Everett is saying something about property values and what this place used to be, but I can’t pay attention.I’ve spent years falling apart at the slightest provocation. At a blond guy in the wrong place, at a cologne I haven’t smelled since—Ryan.Who’s walking next to Everett with his hands in his pockets, who I’ve fallen for every time I met him. I’ve spent years falling apart, and I don’t know what it means, but right now, I’ve never felt more together. Heather sniffles next to me, clutching my hand. Everett seems to be babbling because he can’t figure out anything else to do. But I’m not worried.And I might not be crazy either.“So, anyway, we could hit up the northeast quadrant?” Everett shrugs. “Heard my dad say something about a foreman or a surveyor or something starting over there. They might have some shit.”Ryan nods. I can’t call him anything else now. He
The Boy Who Died What the Fuck?
BenSomething in my chest reverberates when she says the name Ryan. Something else twangs when the SUV whips into the road. I don’t know what to do with any of it, or the insane implication that a football player has been running forensic tests on me in secret.None of that matters now.“Get in the car!” I shout.Marcie, Heather, and Everett just look from me to the SUV. One of its windows buzzes down, and something dark pokes out. Neurons I don’t remember having fire. That’s the muzzle of a gun.No time left. I grab Marcie’s upper arm—the meathead doesn’t even try to stop me—and start yanking her toward my car. Theirs is across the street, and we need anything that’ll stand in the way of us and bullets, even a crappy sedan. Marcie moves when I pull her like she was waiting for instructions. Heather and Everett spur into motion. I slam into the driver’s seat, toss Marcie in the passenger’s. The back door is still open when the first bullets fly.In movies, bullets always sound so spec
The Boy Who Died Not Going Alone
MarcieAfter therapy, I stand in front of my apartment door for a long moment. The Arkly is putting out a special paper tonight for the game, so Heather is at the office. Theresa told me a while ago that she splits Sundays between family time and grading, so I shouldn’t call if I actually want to talk. Everett was really nice last night, but I can’t exactly call him my friend. Which means as soon as I walk inside, I’ll be alone.With my thoughts. And the sinking feeling I can’t just avoid this problem.Something crashes on a lower floor, and I jump. It’s a trash can lid. I memorized that sound ages ago. But right now, it feels like anything could be Ben-Ryan coming to get me. Maybe being alone isn’t so bad after all. I shove my key into the lock and open the door quickly.“Hey,” Heather calls from the kitchen.I blink. “Uh, hi?”“Sorry, I was gonna text, but I literally just walked in.” She pads out of the kitchen, still dressed for work and carrying a bag of chips. “Scott closed the
